


(we all end up alone)

by 06seconds_left



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: M/M, fanfic of a fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 20:45:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3623703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/06seconds_left/pseuds/06seconds_left
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The flowers wilt; the threads fade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(we all end up alone)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TDRKBKGO](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TDRKBKGO/gifts).



> Once again, inspired by and written to makkana (aka maktoot)'s masterpiece.
> 
> In retrospect, this probably doesn't make very much sense to people who haven't read the fic.

The flowers wilt; the threads fade.

You watch as he buries himself in jagged pieces of you—the maroon scarf from an eternity ago; the warmest corner of the couch you once shared; the old, abandoned telephone hidden deep in the crevices of a wooden drawer, tucked underneath barriers of paper and wilful denial. You watch as he struggles to hold himself together, and only succeeds in tearing himself apart, minutely yet simultaneously instantaneous. He is whole and he is broken, all within the span of a moment’s thought.

"——" you say, once, to the figure curled up in bed, covered in layers of grief so stark that you can taste it on your tongue, metallic and heavy.

“——“ you say, as you run a hand through his hair, the curls so soft you can barely feel it, almost as if it passes right through you, weightless.

Or. Perhaps, it’s the other way around, and it’s you who evaporates against solidity, intangible.

A muffled whimper floats unattended into the air, pained. You lean down, trying to press your forehead to his. His breath tickles your cheek warm; he shivers. Needles prick at the corner of your eyes and your chest sings hollow, too light, too light.

You wish you could embrace him, pull him close like you once did, in the intimacy of closed doors and hushed whispers. You want to touch him, to speak to him. You want him to hear you.

But the room grows bright, and the sky changes. Clouds flit overhead, wispy and translucent; grey and ominous. Shadows flicker around him as the sun becomes the moon becomes the sun and he—

He never hears you.


End file.
